


five times mordred tried to save galahad (and one where he gave up entirely)

by dreadfulbeauties



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Behavior, Suicide, Tragedy, but weird weird, not sexual weird, this gets kinda weird tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadfulbeauties/pseuds/dreadfulbeauties
Summary: The Incubators never said they hadn't tried out the system with boys. They did, it was just... slightly different.
Relationships: Galahad/Mordred (Arthurian)
Kudos: 11





	five times mordred tried to save galahad (and one where he gave up entirely)

**Author's Note:**

> i like to imagine that the incubators tried out the same system with boys but it worked differently, where since boys are taught to be more open or in touch with their emotions they'd sort of... retain their consciousness/human forms and know that they're overcome by despair, as opposed to magical girls who become witches and slowly start to lose touch with reality once their soul gem breaks.

**i.**

“Hey, Mordred?” Galahad requests as the warmth drains from his body, “When you get back to Camelot with the others… make sure none of you make the mistakes I did, will you?”

His hands open up and the Grail rolls out from his grasp. In the dim, mildewy maze that makes up the dungeon Mordred cannot help but hate that damned Grail and all that it stands for. Pointless, fruitless, futile — that’s what it all was, and Galahad was only able to realize at the very end. Mordred had his suspicions from the beginning.

The little white creature emerges from the shadows, gazing at Mordred with blank, beady red eyes. Kyuubey — he had trotted off once before pretending that he would not make his return, but now that he sees Mordred here he answers. Mordred is already feeling the first pricking of wanting to wring Kyuubey’s frail-looking neck. 

_I thought it would only be considerate to see how your progress was going after you decided to continue on without my help._ The voice is high and chipper, supposed to sound endearing in a mechanical way but coming off to Mordred’s ears as flat and unnerving.

He gives one last kiss to Galahad’s cold forehead. _I’m sorry._

“I changed my mind.”

Its tail flaps. _Oh?_

Without the help of Galahad, Mordred knows he is nothing. Mother would say he is and always was worse than nothing, he was supposed to be her greatest gift and turned out to be nothing but a mistake, the runt of the litter always struggling to keep up. She was right. Galahad tried to convince him otherwise, stretching forth his hand, but he knows the truth. It is only fair that he does what he can to repay his kindness, after all.

“I wish I could go back to the past so as to go on the Grail Quest with Galahad again, so that I will be the one protecting him and keeping him safe. No matter how many times it may take.”

_Are you certain?_

“I am. I absolutely am.”

Kyuubey nods, mimicking understanding. _You know… I heard once about a girl who made a wish not unlike yours. She was much younger than you, and lived in a place far, far away from Briton._

A sharp pain burns through his heart and Mordred doubles over, choking in his efforts to breathe. Soft, pale purple light emits from his chest to solidify into the form of a gem that sits cool and heavy upon his palm.

_It is done._

A rush of light. What feels like running water rushing over him. Mordred opens his eyes to the canopy of stars peeking just beyond the flap of the tent.

_Here’s to trying._

**ii.**

The first time is the most difficult. To begin with, there is the matter of warlocks — men of despair wearing vaguely human skin. Kyuubey meets him in this timeline with his voice as blasé as ever when he tells him Mordred must fight them in order to keep his Soul Gem clean. He has a set of throwing knives on him, and when he pushes the purple gemstone on the one he keeps closest to him it freezes time.

Then there is Galahad himself. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just tries to tell what he thinks is the truth. He can’t be too sure. Things are different in this timeline. It fills him with sorrow to watch Galahad’s face twist up the way it does when Mordred tries to tell him — confusion, then anger.

“What in God’s name are you saying, Mordred?”

“I’m sorry, but — look, Galahad, nothing sacred is worth your own life or soul!”

“Why are you trying to get me to stop, after we’ve spent all this time together trying to seek out the Holy Grail? You know this is something I’ve had to prepare for my whole life, I am _nothing_ without my pledge to God!”

_Make sure none of you make the mistakes I did, will you?_

His hands open and close, like claws. “I just feel like there’s going to be a cost, Galahad. And…”

_I love you. I have for a long time. I know that Percival is far, far more worthy than I am to be with you. It was never meant to be with us, the least I can do is repay your kindness by protecting you._

“…I don’t want you to have pay any costs because I care about you.”

Galahad pushes away the flap of the tent. The sunshine bathes him in light, from the red-blonde hair masquerading his face to the silver armor so polished it nearly shines white. But the sunlight can’t reach his face, that is dimmed by the shadows.

“How do you know all this?”

“I don’t. I just have a feeling that something _bad_ will happen if you try to retrieve the Grail—”

“If anything bad happens, it will be to me, _I’ll_ do this and bear the brunt of whatever pain this task my bring, and I hate that you’re going out of your way to try and stop me!”

Through the cool shadows he can make out Galahad’s eyes going wide with shock. His words ring sharp and bitter in Mordred’s ears. Then his expression starts to soften, his voice painfully gentle.

“Mordred, I’m sorry. I have to do this. For everyone’s sake. Think of what the Grail could mean for the court! It will help both Camelot and the Church. I have pledged to everyone that I will keep my promise and retrieve the Grail. I don’t want to break that promise.”

“Galahad, I—”

He clasps him close, and Mordred thinks something might burst out of his chest when he does.

“I don’t know if I will make it back, but I know I have to try. I have to try for everyone’s sake. For your sake.”

Three knights leave but he knows if he doesn’t do something about it only two will return. Mordred tries to stop time to get them to leave that damned goblet be — let it sit haughty on its pedestal, he thinks, taunting us who think we’re so deserving in the eyes of God, let it leave Galahad be. He keeps watch upon them from afar. He has powers. He will use them. How far can he go?

He doesn’t get to find out. He finds Galahad in the dungeon again, even though he stopped time so that they could lose the Grail in the maze. His limbs shouldn’t look that frail. Nor should his brown eyes stare so blankly up ahead.

Talking does nothing, Mordred finds out after the first few cycles. No matter what, Galahad sets out alongside Percival and Bors.

**iii.**

_Your Soul Gem is looking rather dark,_ Kyuubey notes. Once it shone beautifully, striking in deep violet. Now the color’s washed out by something dark and murky.

Mordred lets the Grief Seed he carries on him click against it and drain the darkness away. The timelines bleed seamlessly into one another: Travel, fight warlocks, stop time, watch Galahad die, again. Travel, stop time, he doesn’t reach the Grail or dies trying, again. Kyuubey does not always know it is the same Mordred — he does not know if it is the same Kyuubey — but comments that he must be a Puero Magus.

In this one he was able to reach Galahad just before he stopped breathing. The ones where that happens are the worst, because he has to watch.

“I know I failed, I’m sorry I couldn’t try hard enough,” is what he says to him this time when he weakly pats at Mordred’s dirty cheek.

_Make sure none of you make the mistakes I did, will you?_

He doesn’t have the time nor the energy to begin crying before the light engulfs him once more.

**iv.**

Sunspots dance across his vision. Crude figures, puppet-like shadows, are visible out of the corner of his eye yet the moment Mordred turns his head they vanish. He sees them more and more often with each new reset. He’s been bad at remembering to keep his Soul Gem clean, but when he does the visions dance away.

“Kyuubey?”

_What is it?_

_This is another Kyuubey. Don’t let him know._ “Have there been any others like me?”

_Why, yes. A very young girl from another time and place, who also had a wish granted like yours — at least, the way you explained it to me. She wanted to protect someone she herself held very dear._

“I see.”

_It’s quite unusual, really. You both even have the same Soul Gem color. Hers was purple._

“What happened to the girl? Did she succeed in protecting that person?”

He swishes his tail. _I don’t really know._

This should be the moment Mordred is finally happy. Galahad failed. They returned to Camelot sans Grail, the three of them. Nay, this should be the moment Galahad is finally happy, because he did not have to sacrifice his life for a goblet.

So why does Mordred wait with bated breath? Why does Galahad walk about the halls of the castle as a mere ghost?

He doesn’t start to put the pieces together until he sees a warlock’s kiss marking Galahad’s throat just above his collar — it was reaching for him because he was easy prey, after all that happened and he was not revered as a martyr or hero but pitied as a tragedy and scorned as a failure, a mistake in the eyes of God. The Grail did not claim Galahad this time, but he was deliberate in making sure that the lake’s icy depths did.

**v.**

“Why are you doing this to me?”

The chains rattle around Galahad’s wrists. What little moonlight can make its way through the gaps of the tree branches tints him in blue. Mordred can see the half-dried tears streaking his face even though it is so dark. This repeat is different from the ones that came before it.

_I’ve loved you for so long. You have no idea — for every time I tried to save you, I failed. I won’t fail this time._

All Mordred actually says, however, is, “To keep you safe.”

“From what?”

_From everyone and everything else,_ is the first thing that crosses Mordred’s mind. He strikes it out. _From what I thought was inevitable once. But it’ll be alright now, this time I will save you._

“Something awful might happen should you go further.”

“Mordred, if you knew you ought to have warned the others — don’t you care a _bit_ for them? The other knights ought to know if there are dangers they’ll face!”

There it is again, a shadowy creature darting just beyond his line of vision. How long has it been since a Grief Seed last drained the darkness away? He steels himself to remember this isn’t wrong. This is right, he is only doing this for Galahad’s sake. It has always been for Galahad’s sake.

“It was never about the other knights. It was about you. Always, you.” When he reaches up to pull Galahad’s face closer so as to properly look at him he feels tearstains on his hands.

“Why me? Don’t you see that my life — just the one — is hardly worth the safety of everyone else here?”

What can he say? _I have been in love with you for many years, ever since you first let me taste kindness, so sweet in my mouth. And then you died for a God who couldn’t even bless you with happiness?_

“You’re wrong, Galahad. You’re wrong. And if I have to keep you here until you realize that, I _will_.”

“This isn’t the Mordred I knew as a child. You talk of how you were weaker back then, yes, but it was not weakness. It was warmth. You’re so cruel and withdrawn now, and now you steal me away in the dead of night because… of a possibility?”

He holds Galahad close and buries his head in the curve of his shoulder and neck. _This isn’t wrong._

“My life is worth nothing, Mordred. If I can do something that will be useful to everyone — my father, the other knights, the king himself — I will do so, even if it costs me my life. Don’t you see?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t see. You’re perfectly alright with hurting yourself if it means making everyone around you happy — I can’t let that be.” The first tears begin to form as stinging pinpricks in his eyes. _After everything I’ve done for you… and I can never tell. Never. Not ever._

“But I must. I _have_ to make sure everyone is happy, that what I do bears weight. It’s the least I can do, being as useless as I am.”

For the first time in many, many repeats, Mordred starts to sob.

He continues on in this timeline, regardless. He does not want to accept it — it was not hopeless, Galahad just does not know. But even if Galahad does not reach the Grail, he is miserable traveling from place to place with Mordred even though he says again and again that this is for his safety. He is only doing what is right. 

He hears the knights are looking for them. _This isn’t wrong._

But then he sees Galahad: Dulled brown eyes, flat voice—

_This is wrong. There won’t ever be a repeat where he can be happy, will there?_

One moonlit night, Mordred presses the gem on his dagger and lets himself be carried back in time.

**vi.**

_Your Soul Gem is looking rather dark, Mordred._

Shadows taunt him — not just out of the corners of his eyes, but in the foreground where he can see them. Kyuubey sits at his side, tail swishing. This is the blackest his Soul Gem has ever looked. How many loops has it been? How many times has he tried again and again to protect Galahad, to bring him happiness? Mordred can’t remember. But it matters not.

He didn’t even try this time. Mordred didn’t chase after Galahad, either — there was no point to it. There was never any point.

_You ought to clean it,_ Kyuubey notes. _You haven’t cleaned it since I met you here._

“I will,” Mordred lies. “I’d just like to be left alone for now. “

_Of course._ Then Kyuubey is gone.

_There is nothing left for you here,_ a voice whispers to him. _Galahad is dead and gone, you tried again and again and you failed. Why did you fight for so long? Didn’t you see from the very beginning that it was impossible for him to be happy in life?_

The voice sounds scratchy in his mind. Mordred nods.

_Give up. You’ll never save him. Why don’t you bring down all of Camelot with you, too? They failed Galahad as much as they failed you. They could have stopped him — Percival, Arthur, Lancelot, his own_ father _— and they did nothing._

He nods again. The shadows take a more concrete form: Paper cut-outs, resembling the crumbling statues brought from Rome. He can hold their empty marble stares now that he can see them.

_ When you get back to Camelot with the others… make sure none of you make the mistakes I did, will you? _

He thinks of Galahad saying that so many, many repeats ago. He thinks it is the last time he will remember it. He did never find out what happened to that girl Kyuubey spoke of, though.

_Bring them down with you._

Mordred is vaguely aware of his Soul Gem shattering, and then… nothing.

He’s dreaming — or is he? There are statues. Rotting, decaying statues with the paint worn off them. That’s all the knights and lords and ladies are, statues. He knows that one of them has gone missing, and he has to find them.

He’ll get rid of the other statues if he has to.

-

_Alrick, the statue warlock with a cynical nature. His many statues are on display in his labyrinth, but he cannot find the one he holds dear. The only way to defeat this warlock is to find the statue he has lost. Surely, it would take a miracle for that to happen._

**Author's Note:**

> this idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave. as for kyuubey knowing who homura is... hmm, i mean part of it could be the fact that in at least one of the timelines he did catch onto what powers she had, and perhaps put two and two together? or maybe i just wanted to throw in a reference to pmmm :] because i love me my megucas...
> 
> idk i'm tired and i had to write this one down. it just kind of happened. maybe it doesn't make too much sense, but man am i proud of how my writing style felt in this.
> 
> thank you for reading. comments are always appreciated <3


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